The reception was just as noisy as ever, but the room quieted as he entered. “My friends,” Kieri said, “I am reminded that tomorrow is the coronation and I, at least, must have some rest and the palace must prepare a feast. I would not stint your pleasure, but perhaps—”
“Of course, Sir King,” Sier Halveric said, picking up the cue neatly. “We also have duties tomorrow and it would be well to rest now.” He collected his family, and the others, the nobles and the envoys, all found a place in the line that snaked past Kieri, bowing and speaking farewell. At last they were gone, and Kieri went upstairs to his own chamber.
Out the window, a clear night, heavy with stars. He stood there awhile, smelling the fresh air, the sweetness of the first flowers just coming into bloom, looking at the stars, memory and hope melding as he thought of the next morning. He had come home, but too late for his family; he had become what his father had once hoped, but by a path that might make him fail … no, he would not think of that. He went into the bathing room without lighting a candle, stripped, dipped some of the cold water waiting for morning and a fire to become his bath, and washed off the sweat and smell of the evening. He still found Lyonyan nightclothes strange; he pulled on his old nightshirt, hung the sword on its hook by the bed, and stretched only once before falling asleep.
14
Dorrin Verrakai rode into Harway at the head of her cohort, still wearing Phelan’s maroon and white. She had briefed Selfer on what she expected, and on what her new powers were. She told him what Paks and the Knight-Commander had said about the melding of her years of military experience with the magery, about Falk’s blessing. Selfer nodded, though he said little; she thought he was less worried than before about the magery. She repeated what she’d told Kieri, that in their last session, she had held an entire Field of Falk motionless at once and stopped arrows in flight so they hung in the air.
In the market square, forty Royal Guard Light Cavalry awaited her, all muffled in fur-lined cloaks against the cold. The commander introduced himself as Sir Valthan Destvaorn.
“My lord—lady Duke,” he said. “It is the prince’s wish that I give you his messages; I have arranged lodging for you and your soldiers.”
“Thank you,” Dorrin said. She did not dismount; it had been a hard, cold ride that day and she longed for a hot drink and something soft to sit on.
“Are these the same as battled for Duke—the king—on the way to Lyonya?” he asked.
“They are indeed,” Dorrin said.
He looked them over, his expression wary. “They are the former Duke’s troops, are they not? Mercenaries?”
“Indeed. And my cohort these many years. And at the moment, tired and cold, so let us proceed to lodging, where I will be pleased to explain more, if you wish.”
“Oh … certainly …” He wheeled his horse in line with hers and pointed with his crop. “That way, away from the river.”
The inn he had chosen was the largest, with ample stabling for their mounts and pack animals. Selfer took charge of settling the animals and the troops; Dorrin followed Sir Valthan into the common room and through to a private parlor.
As she hung up her cloak and warmed herself at the fire, he ordered in a pitcher of sib and sweet cakes hot from the oven.
“Since the prince wrote you,” he said, when he returned, “we have captured those Verrakaien in Vérella. You know the Duke and his brother who attended court there are dead. The kirgan and a younger boy are in custody, as well as those Verrakaien in the royal service, and a few others visiting in the homes of loyal lords. But we have not captured other Verrakaien we know of, and we do not have a complete list. We have blockaded the roads that enter Verrakai lands, but after the first attempt to enter and arrest those at Verrakai House resulted in loss of that patrol—”
“What happened?”
“We found bodies just inside Verrakai boundary stones,” Valthan said, grimacing. “And were ordered to wait until the new Duke—you—arrived before trying again. We’d heard all of Liart’s priests were killed in the battle you were in—”
“All of them there were killed,” Dorrin said.
“Well, there must have been more,” he said. “There’s dangerous magicks—traps, confusions of trails. And that patrol—” He looked hard at her. “We are charged to give you escort into the Duke’s … your … domain. To assist you in taking your place as the new Duke. Do you anticipate resistance once you show your insignia?”
“Yes,” Dorrin said. She poured herself a mug of sib and let the hot liquid burn down her throat. “My relatives will not yield to me because the prince named me duke; far from it. Surely the prince has told you that I left the family and was stricken from the rolls when I won my ruby.” She touched the Falkian ruby. “They wanted no part of me; I wanted no part of them.”
“Yet you are here.” Both tone and look challenged her.
“My prince asked me,” Dorrin said. “For the sake of the realm, for those long tormented by the Verrakai, I am here.”
“I was given this for you.” He handed over a velvet pouch; inside were a scroll case and a flat leather box in Verrakai blue. Dorrin opened the box first and found her uncle’s chain of office and ring. “The prince wishes you to come to Vérella when you can, to be formally invested, ideally at his coronation.”
Dorrin unrolled the first scroll and read aloud.
An Order to attaint such of the Persons concerned in the late horrid Conspiracies, to wit: First, to assassinate His Majesty Kieri Artfiel Phelan, king of Lyonya, and to subvert the royal warrant for his protection during his progress through Tsaia, given by the Royal Council of Tsaia under seal of the Crown Prince, by attacking not only His Majesty’s person but also the Royal Guard of Tsaia after presentation of the royal warrant. Second, to assassinate His Highness Mikeli Voston Kieriel Mahieran, Crown Prince of Tsaia and attempt seizure of the Crown. Third, to assassinate other members of the royal family and household in furtherance of treason. This Order attaints all who have fled from Justice, unless they render themselves to Justice, and for continuing other of the said Conspirators in Custody. This Order pertains to all Verrakai, male and female, above the age of ten winters, within and without the realm of Tsaia, save Dorrin of Phelan’s Company.
The next scroll held an order for her, personally:
It is ordered by the Royal Council of Regents and the Crown Prince that Dorrin Verrakai, acting as Serjeant of Arms for the Crown of Tsaia in the domain of Verrakai, herself or through her deputies or other assigns, do forthwith attach the Bodies of said Conspirators found in the domain of Verrakai, and do hold them in safe Custody for transport to Vérella to appear before the Council for judgment. Dorrin Verrakai shall have no power to exonerate or raise the attaint from any over the age of thirteen winters by common reckoning, but may at her discretion raise it from those between ten and thirteen. Dorrin Verrakai shall have the power to attach any other persons she finds associated with the said Conspiracy. Dorrin Verrakai shall have the authority to command this squad of Royal Guard to assist in her duties, and such other persons as she chooses to appoint. Persons attached may be sent to Vérella under Royal Guard escort.
Finally, a very short note:
As the Verrakaien are magelords using forbidden magery against Our realm, Dorrin Duke Verrakai has my personal authorization to use what magery she may command in furtherance of Orders given her.
Dorrin looked over at the Royal Guard captain. “Sir Valthan … were you made aware of the contents of these messages?”